“There must be a safe,” said Scheepers.
Borstlap picked up Jan Kleyn’s keys and showed them to him.
“No key, though,” he said.
“You can be sure he’s chosen a place for the safe he thinks is the last place we’d think of looking,” said Scheepers. “So that’s where we’ll start. Where’s the last place we’d think of looking?”
“Right in front of our very eyes,” said Borstlap. “The best hiding place is often the most obvious one. That’s what we find hardest to see.”
“Concentrate on finding the safe,” said Scheepers. “There’s nothing on the bookshelves.”
Borstlap nodded and replaced the book he was holding in his hand. Scheepers went back to the study. He sat at the desk and started opening the drawers in turn.
Two hours later he had found nothing at all of significance for the investigation. Jan Kleyn’s papers were mostly concerned with his private life and contained nothing remarkable. Or else they were to do with his coin collection. To his astonishment Scheepers discovered that Jan Kleyn was chairman of the South African Numismatic Society, and did sterling work on behalf of the country’s coin collectors. Another peculiarity, he thought. But that is hardly of significance for my investigation.
Borstlap had made two thorough searches of the house without finding a safe.
“There must be one,” said Scheepers.
Borstlap called in the servant and asked him where the safe was. The man stared at him uncomprehendingly.
“A secret cupboard,” said Borstlap. “Hidden, always locked?”
“There isn’t one,” said the man.
Borstlap sent him out again in annoyance. Then they started searching anew. Scheepers tried to see if there were any irregularities in the house’s architecture. It was not unusual for South Africans to have secret chambers built into their houses. He found nothing. While Borstlap was up in the cramped loft searching around with a flashlight, Scheepers went out into the yard. He observed the house from the back. The solution struck him more or less immediately. The house had no chimney. He went back inside and squatted in front of the open hearth. They had pocket flashlights with them, and he shone his up into the chimney. The safe was cut into the wall. When he tried the handle he found to his surprise that it was unlocked. Just then Borstlap came downstairs.
“A well-chosen hiding place,” said Scheepers.
Borstlap nodded. He was annoyed that he had failed to find it himself.
Scheepers sat down at the marble table in front of the big leather sofa. Borstlap had gone outside for a cigarette. Scheepers sorted through the papers from the safe. There were insurance policies, some envelopes containing old coins, the house deeds, about twenty stock certificates, and some government debentures. He pushed it all to one side and concentrated on a small, black notebook. He leafed through the pages. They were full of cryptic notes, a mixture of names, places and combinations of numbers. Scheepers decided to take the book with him. He replaced the papers in the safe and went out to Borstlap.
A thought suddenly struck him. He beckoned to the three men who squatted watching them.
“Were there any visitors late last night?” he asked.
The gardener replied.
“Only Mofolo, the night watchman, can tell you that,” he said.
“And he’s not here, of course. ”
“He comes at seven o’clock.”
Scheepers nodded. He would come back.
They drove back to Johannesburg. On the way they stopped for a late lunch. They separated at a quarter past four outside the police station. Scheepers could not put it off any longer. He would have to start the interrogation of Jan Kleyn now. But first he would make another attempt to get hold of President de Klerk.
When the security guard outside President de Klerk’s office called near midnight, Jan Kleyn had been surprised. He knew of course that a young prosecutor by the name of Scheepers had been given the assignment of trying to sort out the suspicions of a conspiracy. All the time he was confident of being a sufficient number of steps ahead of the man trying to track him down. But now he realized Scheepers was closer to him than he had imagined. He got up, dressed, and prepared to be up all night. He guessed he had until at least ten the following morning. Scheepers would need an hour or two next day in order to arrange all the papers needed for his arrest. By then he must have made sure he had issued all the necessary instructions and ensured the operation would not run into trouble. He went down to the kitchen and made tea. Then he sat down to write a summary. There was a lot to keep in mind. But he would manage.
Getting arrested was an unexpected complication. But he had considered the possibility. The situation was annoying, but not impossible to resolve. As he could not be sure how long Scheepers was thinking of holding him, he must make plans on the assumption he would be detained until the assassination of Mandela had been carried out.
That was his first task that night. To turn what would happen the following day to his own advantage. As long as he was detained, they would not be able to accuse him of being involved in the various activities. He thought through what was going to happen. It was one in the morning by the time he called Franz Malan.
“Get dressed and come over here,” he said.
Franz Malan was half-awake and confused. Jan Kleyn did not mention his name.
“Get dressed and come over here,” he repeated.
Franz Malan asked no questions.
Just over an hour later, shortly after two, he entered Jan Kleyn’s living room. The drapes were closed. The night watchman who opened the gate for him was threatened with instant dismissal if he ever revealed the visitors who came to the house late in the evening or during the night. Jan Kleyn paid him a very high wage in order to guarantee the guy’s silence.
Franz Malan was nervous. He knew Jan Kleyn would never have summoned him unless something important had come up.
Jan Kleyn hardly let him sit down before explaining what had happened, what would happen the next morning, and what must be fixed that night. What Franz Malan heard increased his nervousness. He could see his own responsibility would increase beyond what he was really happy with.
“We don’t know how much Scheepers has managed to figure out,” he said. “But we must take certain precautions. The most important one is to dissolve the Committee, and divert attention from Cape Town and June 12.”
Franz Malan gaped at him in astonishment. Could he be serious? Would all the executive responsibility fall on his shoulders?
Jan Kleyn could see he was worried.
“I’ll be out again soon,” he said. “Then I’ll take over the responsibility.”
“I hope so,” said Franz Malan. “But dissolving the Committee?”
“We have to. Scheepers might have penetrated deeper and further than we can imagine.”
“But how has he done that?”
Jan Kleyn shrugged in annoyance.
“What do we do?” he asked. “We use all our skills, all our contacts. We bribe, threaten, and lie our way to the information we need. There are no limits to what we can do. And so there are no limits for those who keep watch over our activities. The Committee must not meet again. It will cease to exist. That means it has never existed. We shall contact all the members tonight. But before that there are other things we have to do.”
“If Scheepers knows we’re planning something for June 12th, we’ll have to postpone it,” said Franz Malan. “The risk is too great.”